Still in Victoria

Watched Blackhawk Down, The Machinist, a little Robot Chicken, (scroll down on link for pirate humour) and nothing else because we actually did work yesterday.  Now it’s the crack of noon and I’m finally out of bed.  What gives?  I was in bed by 10 last night!!?  Maybe I’m lying awake in bed for hours thinking dark thoughts.  Dark thoughts which I cannot commit to my blog, lest they be used in turn to commit me.  Sorry, the paranoia is lying deep, and deep, upon me right now.  It’s hard to watch a movie like The Machinist and not go to a dark place afterwards.  And this was the movie that Joe at work has been bugging me to watch since the day he started!  Now I’ll have to watch it again.

I know it’s really really sick, but Christian Bale at 121 pounds is the hottest thing evah.  I normally don’t go for extremememes in male shapeliness, but the idea of (ed.: Cut that shiat out, right now!).  Aherm.  Yes.  So to recap.  Skinny Christian Bale equals teh hotness.  That is all.
One more cup of this extremely fine coffee, and it’s back to the dejunking.

Wish I had a backchannel

There is somebody I really, really want to communicate with at the moment.  This person never reads my blog.  I have no useful email addresses, the phone doesn’t work, and in person it’s impossible.

On a positive note, I just watched Christian Bale in The Machinist and I can hardly wait to tell my coworker, who has been bugging me to see it since the day he started on his job.

In Victoria

Movies: Pink Floyd Live in Pompeii;

Children of Men

and we got half way through a CHERRY print of Robinson Crusoe on Mars

GRRR there was something wrong with the actual DVD; it stopped in the middle of a closeup on Mona’s face.

Yesterday, in church, bad puns broke out. It was very, very bad, mostly because Lady Miss Banjola and Dr Filk were not there to raise the insanity to ever higher levels.

Now I’m going to see if I can drag my bro out to breakfast. Nope – he’s made me oatmeal. Then the food shop….
The trip here started repulsive and got better and better; the weather was so much more clement it was very pleasant to stand it in while waiting briefly for Jeff. When I left my place at SFU it was howling a gale and slanting rain, and I lost my bus pass on the ground, and so missed the first bus retracing my steps to see what the hell I had done with it. I found it right out front of my apartment building (thank guh) and then spent three hours alternately waiting for a bus and riding one. It’s an $85 cab ride to the ferry terminal from my place (I did it once, partly to see how much it cost and partly because I was feeling quite worn out) but I don’t think I’ll be that self indulgent again if I can help it.
Jeff’s kitties are doing famously. They were both sitting in the window of the computer room this morning intently looking at something of cat interest.

Homily went well (see Thanksgiving…)

and now I am off to Victoria for a while, back Thursday night.  I will probably not be posting nearly as much, so try to stay out of trouble while I’m gone.  If you can’t at least have the decency to invent a new kind of trouble.

I light a candle for Daughter Katie, whose niece Sapphire has been stolen by the Ministry.  I light a candle for everyone involved, including the heartless pricks whose idea of a good time is scoop a baby after tossing the mother into handcuffs the Friday before a long holiday weekend.  The child in question was NOT AT RISK.  The parents are young and stupid and to put it vaguely but tellingly “multiply diagnosed”, but Sapphire is not being physically or emotionally abused, she’s entirely on target for growth and developmental milestones, and Katie got to watch this go down, and it’s not turning her into ‘a better citizen’ if compliance and unquestioning patriotism is the desired end state.

Okay, NOW I’m going to Victoria.

Fight the power and may God rain down judgment on the Ministry.

God is a capricious lover

Sometimes you text him twenty times and he doesn’t answer and sometimes he expects you to do all the work and sometimes he comes on so big and so mean.  Other times he seems way more interested in other girls, and right in front of you.  Sometimes he comments that you really aren’t doing it for him anymore.

Okay, lightning will strike me but hopefully after I deliver my homily this morning.

Hm.

The things we’re not allowed to say

Fill the room with poison

The things we’re not allowed to say

Fill the air with fi-ire

The things we’re not allowed to say

Beg your heart for pardon

The things we’re not allowed to say

Tending Satan’s garden

(fades into long, bendy, twirly, bluesayyyy guitar solo)

o and the long conversation on the phone.

Happy sigh.  Tonight I spent 2 hours on the phone with somebody, practiced and sang for an hour, worked on the homily an hour, and, and, prior, a happy couple of hours feasting the 50th birthday of a co-worker.

Prior, last day at work for a week, and pissing and pleasing the engineering department by serenading Peter A.  The hate / love split perfectly along race lines, it was amazing to see. Next time I’ll ask for permission.  But I think the Friday afternoon serenade before a long holiday weekend is a lovely tradition.

Today’s performance – not my best, but I’ll do better next time – was made infinitely sweeter by my being completely done by the time the tour of the Chinese joint venture folks went through.

Other stuff happened that makes me happy, so I’ll just be off in this corner smiling, because my evening was both productive and sociable, and now I’m bound for bed (after I check comments, facebook, brush my teeth and take some vitamins).